


Rough Edges

by 27dragons, tisfan



Series: Tales from the Communal Kitchen (the ex-assassins files) [10]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blindfolds, Bondage, Communication, Edgeplay, Ice Play, Kink Negotiation, Knifeplay, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Overstimulation, Overwhelmed, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Safeword Use, Sensation Play, Sub Bucky Barnes, Sub Drop, Tickling, but only sort of, in that clothing is the only thing that gets cut, they're actually using their words for a change!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 00:47:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10775973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: And if Bucky had never wanted it, then that was fine -- he’d already been held down and hurt more than enough for any five lifetimes, and it wasn’t going to be Tony who asked him to do more of something he didn’t want. It wasn’t like their sex life was lacking in excitement.But a few days ago, Bucky had finally asked, shy and blushing and hopeful.Some time after the events ofEvery Lover is a Soldier, Tony decides it's time to turn the tables...





	Rough Edges

**Author's Note:**

> It is tisfan's birthday! Happy birthday, tisfan!
> 
> To celebrate, we have written a smut for all of you, our beloved and loyal readers! (And everyone else who stumbles across this, as well, of course. We're not asking for credentials at the door or anything.)
> 
> No prior knowledge of the Communal Kitchen 'verse is needed to enjoy the smut, though it might help slightly in understanding some of their reactions to things.

Bucky was shivering.

It was warm in the room -- several degrees warmer than they generally preferred, in fact -- and he was still clothed. He wasn’t cold.

But he was still shivering.

This wasn’t a new thing for them, not precisely. Bucky mostly preferred to top, but when it came to dominance, they were casually switchy. Sometimes, Bucky locked Tony to the collapsible frame Tony had built and tormented him until he was boneless and sobbing; sometimes Tony tied Bucky’s wrists and fucked his throat or ruthlessly rode him through orgasm after orgasm until he was oversensitive and jittery.

But Tony had never before restrained Bucky in any way that Bucky couldn’t escape. Rope and cloth and padded steel handcuffs were trivial bonds against the Winter Soldier’s strength. Sometimes Bucky snapped them, and sometimes he didn’t, but that option was always there.

But when Tony had built the frame, he’d built it with every possible option in mind -- including the option of holding Bucky down for real.

Tony had mentioned the frame’s capabilities, and then left it alone, waiting for that seed to sprout in the delightfully fertile ground of Bucky’s imagination. He hadn’t pushed. He’d seen the way Bucky sometimes eyed the heavy cuff designed to hold the metal arm. He could wait, when it was important, and Bucky’s trust was right at the top of the list of things that were important to Tony.

And if Bucky had never wanted it, then that was fine -- he’d already been held down and hurt more than enough for any five lifetimes, and it wasn’t going to be Tony who asked him to do more of something he didn’t want. It wasn’t like their sex life was lacking in excitement.

But a few days ago, Bucky had finally asked, shy and blushing and hopeful.

A few moments ago, Tony had kissed Bucky, long and sweet and hot, and told him that their schedules were clear and that if this was still something Bucky wanted, then he should go set up the frame and then kneel beside it and wait.

And now, _now_ , Tony was standing in the doorway, watching Bucky shiver. His eyes were downcast and his hands rested lightly on his thighs. He hadn’t looked up, hadn’t even _twitched_ , as far as Tony could tell, when Tony came into the room.

“Look at you,” Tony breathed. “Oh, sweetheart, look at you being so good.” Bucky didn’t quite move, but the tension in his body shifted. Tony crouched in front of him and lifted his chin with one hand.

Bucky’s eyes flicked up the instant Tony touched him, searching Tony’s eyes. He seemed to be about to speak, but then subsided.

Tony ran his knuckles gently down the side of Bucky’s face. “You don’t have to stay quiet for me, gorgeous,” he said. “Not unless I tell you to, but right now, I’m not telling you. I like hearing your voice. What is it you want to say?”

“Tony,” Bucky said, then quickly corrected, “Sir.”

Tony didn’t generally stand on formality when he was doing this; it was enough for him that his orders were obeyed. Bucky knew that; they’d had multiple in-depth conversations about their preferences and expectations for situations like this. But Tony nodded, accepting it, and Bucky’s pupils widened, just a touch, and the shivering eased a little, so obviously using the title did something for _Bucky_. “What is it, honey?”

“I didn’t know if... if you wanted me to get undressed,” Bucky said.

Bucky was already blushing; god, he was going to be _so beautiful_.

Provided, Tony reminded himself, he did his part well. He leaned in and kissed Bucky’s forehead. “I didn’t say to,” he said. “You did exactly right.”

Some of the tension melted away as Bucky sighed in relief. Tony stroked a hand down Bucky’s neck, over his shoulder and down his arm. “You’re still shivering,” he observed. “Are you cold?”

Bucky shook his head quickly. “Just... wound up, sir,” he said. “Little nervous. Don’t know what to expect.” He smiled a little, wry.

“Okay,” Tony said. “Because we can call a halt, right now, if you’ve changed your mind. No harm, no foul.”

Bucky was already shaking his head again. “No, I want this. I _want_ it, sir, please.”

“All right,” Tony agreed. “Tell me your safewords, then.”

“Red for stop, yellow for a pause, green for go.” Bucky made the agreed-on gestures as he spoke. “Sir.”

“Good,” Tony said, and smiled at the way Bucky’s eyelids went heavy with the praise. He stood up, cupping Bucky’s chin in one hand to keep Bucky’s eyes on him. He held the pose for a moment, enjoying the look on Bucky’s face, trusting and sweet, with just a hint of nervousness left. God, but Bucky was gorgeous. “Stand up, sweetheart,” he said, letting go and taking half a step back. “Let’s get you into position.”

Bucky stood, graceful and smooth, never taking his eyes from Tony’s face. Tony guided him to stand on the frame’s platform, setting his bare feet a little wider than shoulder-width. Tony knelt to wrap the heavy, padded restraints around Bucky’s ankles, making sure the bottoms of his jeans weren’t caught.

“All right, give those a yank for me so I can make sure they’re secure,” Tony said.

Bucky obeyed, tugging on first one leg and then the other, but when Tony nodded in satisfaction and stood, he was watching Tony with an uncertain expression.

“Doing okay?” Tony asked innocently.

“Yeah, I-- green. Sir. But I...”

God, Tony loved that blush. “Thought you’d be naked?” he finished, smirking.

“...Yes?”

Tony grinned and kissed him, a quick press of lips. “We’ll get there. Gotta trust me.”

“I do,” Bucky said quickly. “I’m just... Sorry, I’ll be good.”

Tony kissed him again, with a little more heat. “You haven’t stopped being good,” he pointed out. “I told you, you don’t have to be quiet. I expect you to do what I tell you and to answer promptly when I ask you something, but I like to hear you and I want to know if you have questions or concerns.” Tony stepped back half a step to look Bucky over. “Someday,” he mused, “I’m going to tie you down and make you tell me what to do to you. Every little thing, in as much detail as I can drag out of you.”

Bucky’s eyes were wide, and Tony grinned at him. There was a sharp disconnect between the things Bucky wanted to _do_ and the things he wanted to _say_. Tony sometimes enjoyed exploiting Bucky’s bashfulness, and as Bucky had never called a halt, Tony rather suspected that Bucky enjoyed it, too. “But not today. Today, I have other plans. Put your hand up here.” He patted the frame.

Tony got Bucky’s arms into position, the cuffs of his soft blue henley tucked inside the restraints, and had him test the locks. He saw the exact moment where it registered in Bucky’s backbrain that he was trapped, unable to move -- an instant of panic, a little more effort put into resisting the restraints, breath speeding. Tony let him fight it, watched him struggle, testing the frame’s grip.

After a minute, Bucky stilled, though his breath was still a little fast. “There you go,” Tony said, low and soft. “Check in for me, baby; what’s your color right now?”

“Green, sir,” Bucky said, slightly breathless. “It’s... hard. But in a good way. I think.”

“Good. Tell me if that changes, yeah?” Tony waited until Bucky agreed, and then stepped back to look at him. He made a gorgeous picture, even still dressed, the stretch of his arms making his shirt ride up to reveal a delectable strip of skin. “Tell me how you’re feeling.”

Bucky huffed. “Little bit Vitruvian Man.”

Tony laughed; it was close to the right pose, and the frame added to that illusion. “DaVinci never had a model this beautiful. Still nervous?”

“A little. But it’s... better, I think, now that I’m locked in. Is that weird?” He made a face, right hand twisting restlessly in its cuff. “Feels like it should be weird.”

Tony shrugged. “Brains are weird,” he acknowledged. “If I had to guess, from having been there before myself, I’d say it’s the relief of having your choices narrowed down. Can’t move, can’t get out, can’t fight it. All that’s left is the decision of whether to say your safewords.”

Bucky shuddered all over. “Yeah,” he agreed, a little roughly. “Yeah, that sounds right.” It went without saying that what made it _relief_ and not _panic_ was that Bucky trusted Tony to heed those safewords.

If Tony lived to be a hundred and fifty, he would never get over his sense of awe of Bucky’s trust.

Tony stepped close again and stroked his fingers through Bucky’s hair a few times. When Bucky started to lean into the touch, he made a fist and tugged Bucky’s head back to expose his throat. Bucky let out a soft sound as Tony’s teeth scraped lightly across his throat. “I’ve got you,” Tony whispered.

Tony sucked at Bucky’s neck, keeping hold of Bucky’s hair with one hand and running the other over Bucky’s torso. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, in between nips and licks. “Nothing more than a hickey, maybe a little bite or two.” He turned his head to kiss the meaty curve of Bucky’s right shoulder, which was Bucky’s favorite place for Tony to sink in his teeth. “But no hitting, not this time. Understand?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good.” Tony let go and pulled back, just a bit. When Bucky looked at him, Tony poked his fingers into Bucky’s armpit.

Bucky yelped and tried to pull his arm down protectively. He couldn’t, of course. “Oh, oh shit, no. No tickling, Tony. _Tony_ , oh, shit shit shit, _no_...”

Tony grinned and danced his fingers down Bucky’s side, prompting some lovely squirming and pleading. “I distinctly recall,” Tony said, “you saying you _liked_ it when I tickled you.”

“You hallucinated it,” Bucky gasped between bursts of helpless laughter. “Wasn’t me. Stop, stop, god, no!”

“I’m going to find all the best spots,” Tony mused, dragging his hand across Bucky’s stomach. “Give me an edge the next time you feel like wrestling.”

“Cheater,” Bucky whined. Trying to escape the tickling was making his hips gyrate gorgeously. Tony “accidentally” grazed Bucky’s dick, and it was hard enough that his pants had to be more than a little uncomfortable. Then Tony moved on to the sensitive dip of his hipbone. Bucky’s whimper shattered into gales of laughter.

Tony didn’t linger too long in any one spot -- this was only an appetizer, and Tony wanted to cover as much of his body as possible. Bucky’s feet escaped because he was standing on them, and his human arm wasn’t very ticklish anyway, but Tony managed to cover most of the rest of his body.

The whole time, Bucky’s pleas and demands for Tony to stop tickling him never stopped, but he never let out a safeword, either, even when Tony paused briefly to let him catch his breath a little. That was something of a relief. Bucky _did_ like being tickled -- Tony had lost count of the number of times they’d started in a tickle-fight and ended up in bed -- but not everyone could enjoy being tickled for more than a few seconds, or without being able to retaliate, and sometimes you didn’t know until you tried.

Tony ended it with long, slow strokes of the metal arm, because even though Bucky had described that sensation as “tickling”, Tony knew damn well it that he also found it intensely erotic.

Bucky was panting for breath, twisting in the restraints as if he couldn’t decide whether to lean into or away from Tony’s touch, and occasionally whining when neither actually worked.

“Had enough of that?” Tony asked.

“Fuck if I know,” Bucky groaned. “Christ, the things you do to me, Tony. Sir.”

Tony kissed him for that, hand still trailing back and forth along Bucky’s arm, tracing the edges of the metal plates. “Ready to try something else?”

“I...” Bucky bit his lip, which always made Tony want to tease it back out from under his teeth and suck on it. “Whatever you say, sir.”

“Oh, good answer,” Tony purred. “For that, I think we’ll do something about these pesky clothes.”

“Oh, God, yes,” Bucky said, nodding. “ _Please_.”

“All right,” Tony said. “You know how much I love it when you rip my clothes off, right? So hot. Now, obviously I can’t return the favor, not without being in the suit, which, well, as sexy a beast as the armor is, it’s really not designed for this sort of thing. So... I’m going to need you to hold very still for me, gorgeous.” He held up a knife.

Not just any knife. One of _Bucky’s_ knives, the one he liked to flip and fidget with when they were in battle, stuck in a holding pattern. Bucky’s eyes went round. “Yes, sir.” He sounded breathless, and Tony had to work to suppress a smile.

He’d been surprised, and more than a little disturbed, when he’d seen Bucky’s kink ratings and found that Bucky had marked knifeplay as “want to try”. Regardless of Bucky’s healing factor and the level of trust it implied, Tony could all-too-vividly recall the way Bucky had screamed during surgery, and he absolutely couldn’t bring himself to imagine making even the shallowest of cuts himself. But he’d also caught the momentary flicker of disappointment in Bucky’s eyes when he’d explained it. Cutting Bucky’s clothes off was, Tony had hoped, a good compromise, allowing the knife’s menace and danger without actually doing damage.

The way Bucky was nodding eagerly suggested that he agreed.

It would be easier to start at the bottom of Bucky’s shirt, where he could slip the knife under the cloth and cut upward, but what would be the fun in that? Tony went instead to Bucky’s left wrist. Bucky wouldn’t be hurt if he accidentally poked too hard, he reasoned, but the soft shiver of the knife against the arm would be delectable. Very carefully, Tony worked the tip of the blade into the fabric -- it was even easier than he’d hoped; Bucky kept the knives honed to splice hairs -- and then sliced slowly, carefully, from the wrist toward Bucky’s shoulder.

He gave Bucky an assessing look -- Bucky’s eyes were locked on the knife, still wide and dark, breathing heavy but not too fast -- and then adjusted the angle. “Very, _very_ still,” he reminded Bucky, and then slid it across Bucky’s chest just below the collarbones, not quite grazing Bucky’s skin. The blade went through the front of the shirt like it was nothing, and now the loose cloth was sagging down, exposing skin underneath.

Tony cut down the other arm, and then a circle around Bucky’s wrist, just above the restraint. “Nice,” he said, watching the sleeve fall away from Bucky’s arm. He laid the flat of the blade gently on Bucky’s shoulder, and met Bucky’s eyes. “You’re doing really well,” he said. “We’ll have this off in just a minute.” A slow, oh-so careful twist of the knife parted the collar, and the remains of the shirt dropped away, held now only where it was still tucked into the left restraint. Tony cut that away as well, leaving Bucky bare-chested, scraps dangling from the restraints. It looked like something off the cover of a lurid fantasy novel, and Tony grinned.

“Okay?” Tony asked. He drew his free hand down Bucky’s torso, feeling the minute shiver just under Bucky’s skin.

“So much better than okay,” Bucky said. “Christ, Tony, that’s...” He shook his head.

Tony grinned. “Good, I hoped you would like that. Doing all right, ready for me to do the legs, or do you need a breather?”

Bucky’s eyes flicked to the knife and then back to Tony’s face. “God, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he sighed.

Tony stepped back, frowning. “That,” he said, “is not an answer to the question.”

Bucky grimaced. “Uh. Sorry? Sir?”

Tony snorted. “That’s one,” he warned.

“One what?”

“Two,” Tony said.

“Wait, shit, I don’t-- _Question_ , yes, ready to go, all green!” Bucky was staring at him with something like trepidation, shivering again, eyes wide.

Tony swayed forward to catch Bucky’s lips in a sweet kiss. “Better,” he said, and bit lightly at Bucky’s bottom lip. He nipped along Bucky’s jaw, nuzzled his way down Bucky’s neck to taste the hollow of his throat.

Bucky sighed and tipped his head back, so Tony indulged him with a little more, decorating his collarbones with red bite marks that would fade in a matter of minutes.

Bucky was rubbing his face against Tony’s hair, so Tony turned into the kiss, letting Bucky control it, plundering Tony’s mouth desperately. Tony slid a hand up Bucky’s stomach and pinched at his nipple, making him moan into Tony’s mouth.

When Tony pulled back, they were both breathing hard. “Uh, sir?”

“Yes?”

“Can-- am I gonna get in trouble if I ask a question?”

Tony grinned. “Not if I’m not waiting on an answer, no. Go ahead, sugar-bunch, what’s the question?”

Bucky slanted a look at Tony from under his lashes, which was just an unfairly pretty look. “Two _what_?”

Tony laughed. “Two times you don’t get to come,” he said, dragging his hand over the prominent bulge in Bucky’s pants. “Almost. But not quite.”

“Christ,” Bucky swore, then added a few more choice words in Russian. He straightened his back and gave Tony a military sort of nod. “Sir.” His eyes had gone nearly black, the pupils were so dilated.

“Right, now, where were we... Oh, yes. Pants.” Tony knelt and slipped the edge of the knife under the loose cuff of Bucky’s jeans. The heavier material didn’t part quite as easily as the shirt, but it didn’t stand much of a chance, either. Of course, they were also a lot tighter and less stretchy than the shirt, especially once Tony had worked his way past Bucky’s knee, so he had to go slower to make sure he wouldn’t accidentally cut any skin.

He made it about halfway up the front of Bucky’s thigh, then leaned in to press an open-mouthed kiss to the inseam, lingering long enough for Bucky to feel the heat of his breath as he worked slowly upward.

Bucky rattled his hands against the restraints again, jaw clenched up a bit, then leaned as far over as he could -- not much, admittedly -- so he could watch, his lips shaping inaudible words, eyes barely blinking.

Tony looked up at him, smiled wickedly, and then went back to carefully slicing through the leg of Bucky’s jeans. As the fabric gave way, Tony paused to mouth at each freshly-revealed bit of skin. When he neared the top of the thigh, the lighter cloth of the front pocket showing, he leaned back for a moment, considering. Bucky would look _so hot_ in Daisy Dukes, but -- no. Cutting the jeans into the right shape for short-shorts would be awkward and dangerous. Tony finished slicing up to the top of the thigh, then eyed the rise.

“I think this will be easier if we...” He unbuttoned and unzipped the pants, not even pretending to avoid touching Bucky’s dick. “Hmm, yeah. Little bit of extra slack.”

Bucky made a small, concerned noise as the zipper went down, one eye squinched shut.

“What’s the-- Oh. Going commando, are we? Naughty.” Tony grinned. “You don’t think I’d let you get zipped, do you?”

“That’s why it’s called an accident, sir,” Bucky said, forcing both eyes wide again.

Tony sniffed disdainfully, but didn’t respond. He used the extra slack in the top of the jeans to pull them away from Bucky’s body slightly as he finished cutting through. As soon as the knife slipped through the waistband and the fabric fell loose, Tony was kissing and nipping his way down the vee from Bucky’s hipbone along the crease of his thigh.

Bucky shuddered all over, his knees unlocking, and he swayed gently in the grip of the restraints, a soft whine issuing from his throat. “Tony… Sir… God, please…”

Tony hummed happily, letting his voice vibrate against Bucky’s skin. “Other leg, now.” Of course, since one leg had already been cut free, the fabric was much looser; it was almost trivial to slice this side open. He didn’t quite manage to do it all in one long stroke, but it only took a couple of careful pauses to make sure the cloth was pulled away from the skin. The rest of the fabric fell away, and Tony sat back on his heels to enjoy the sight.

“You look positively edible,” Tony purred. “In fact...” He put his hands on Bucky’s hips to steady himself and licked a broad stripe up Bucky’s cock. Bucky gasped and jerked forward, and Tony chuckled. “You want more of that, honey?” He didn’t wait for Bucky to answer, but nosed into the thatch of curls at the base to lick and mouth and oh-so-gingerly nip upward, bringing one hand to cup Bucky’s balls.

“Tony, oh Christ, sir, please...” Bucky was straining forward, head dropped forward on his neck. “ _Please_...”

When Tony reached the head, he lapped at it like ice cream, tonguing at the leaking slit and tracing the straining ridge. He listened to the tenor of Bucky’s begging, felt the way Bucky’s balls twitched, familiar now with his lover’s tells. When Bucky was about three good strokes from coming, Tony sat back, taking his hands off Bucky entirely.

“Ton _aahhhh_ , shit, shit, _shit_ , oh god _fuck_ \--” Bucky kept cursing for a while, eyes squeezed shut. When he finally wound down, he hung loose in the restraints. “Fuck, that’s evil, Tony.”

Tony stood and kissed him, hand fisted tight in his hair. “One down, one to go,” Tony said cheerfully. Bucky whimpered. Tony kissed him again, quick, then couldn’t resist another. “Later,” he said, a promise and a threat that made Bucky shudder. “But now that we’ve got you undressed, it’s time to get started.”

“ _Star_ \--” Bucky broke off with a huff of a laugh. “Sure. ‘Started’.”

Tony chuckled and opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out a silk sleep-mask. “You know how they say losing one sense makes the others sharper? Let’s find out.” He held it up, giving Bucky a chance to object.

Bucky only looked at him, chewing on his lip, so Tony slipped it over his head, checking that the mask completely covered his eyes and that the elastic band wasn’t twisted or tangled in his hair, or covering his ears at all. “Feel okay?”

Bucky moved his head quickly, testing, then nodded. “Okay, sir.”

“Good. I’m not going to leave the room, so you’ll be able to track me, all right?”

“Yes, sir.”

Tony walked around Bucky in a slow circle once, then twice. Bucky's head shifted as he moved, following the sound of Tony's movements. "God, you're gorgeous," Tony marveled. He stepped up behind Bucky and indulged his urge to touch. Bucky's back was warm skin laid over rippling muscle, smooth under Tony's hands.

Tony stroked over every inch of Bucky's back, gentle but firm enough not to tickle again. He slid his thumbs up Bucky's spine and, when Bucky groaned and leaned back into it, did it again, harder. "Hedonist," Tony teased, massaging the tension from the base of Bucky's neck.

"Mm," Bucky agreed. "You didn't hafta tie me up to give me a massage, sir," he said, and Tony could hear the smirk in his voice.

Tony snorted and leaned in close, pressing against Bucky’s back so his breath ghosted over Bucky’s neck as he spoke. "Cheeky brat, do I need to up your count again?"

Bucky sucked in a rush of air. "No, please."

Tony waited.

“...unless you want to, sir.”

Tony kissed between his shoulder blades. "We'll see." It was an appealing thought -- bringing Bucky to the edge and seeing how long Tony could hold him there. Bucky would look so sweet, desperate and begging.

(Not to mention that it would definitely be fun to find out how Bucky would get his revenge, later.)

But for now, Tony resumed his steady exploration of Bucky's body, mapping out every inch of skin with his hands. He ran the callus of his thumb roughly over Bucky's nipples and smiled at the soft sounds it dragged out, but didn't linger, keeping his hands roaming. He knew the slow, careful touch was doing what he wanted when he trailed fingers up the length of Bucky's erection, and Bucky didn't push into the touch, just moaned.

By the time he'd gone over every available inch, Bucky was half-hanging in the restraints, neck loose and practically purring like a cat. "There we are; you're doing so good for me, baby." Tony checked Bucky's hands and feet to make sure they weren't losing circulation. "Feeling all right?"

"So good, sir," Bucky sighed. He sounded either half-drunk or half-asleep, and Tony couldn't help leaning in to kiss him, languid and hot.

He stepped back and went to the small refrigerator he kept in the bedroom. Mostly, they used it for water and juice, but Tony reached into the freezer and took out a pair of nylon strips, a couple of inches wide, with pockets at both ends. One end of each held a small weight. Tony slipped a couple of ice cubes into the other ends.

He brought the strips, and a mug full of more ice, back over to Bucky. He picked up a piece of ice and traced it slowly across the top of Bucky’s chest, just under the collarbones.

Bucky sucked in a breath at the first cold touch and held it until Tony lifted the ice away.

“What’s your color, soldier?” Tony asked.

“Green, sir.”

A water droplet from the ice was meandering down Bucky’s pectoral. Tony casually licked it off, prompting another little gasp. “The cold won’t be a problem?”

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t think so, sir, as long as it stays little bits like that.”

Tony nodded, even though Bucky couldn’t see him. “All right. You speak up if it starts to make you unhappy, though.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Good.” Tony licked up another water droplet, then tongued at the nearest nipple until it was peaked and firm. Then he laid one of the icepacks over Bucky’s shoulder, carefully positioning it so the pocket of ice rested right on his nipple, the weighted end hanging down his back as an anchor.

Bucky yelped. “Fuck! Christ, that’s _cold_!” Tony checked his hands; they were clenching and opening, twisting, but not signaling a safeword.

Tony changed sides, breathing hot over the other side. The contrast made Bucky twist and whine. The instant Tony straightened, Bucky started begging. “No, no, please, sir, please don’t--” He broke off with a hiss as Tony positioned the second icepack.

Bucky leaned forward, trying to make the strips fall away from his skin.

Tony tsked. “If you don’t stop that, I will get a bandage and tie them on,” he threatened, “and then I will add _two_ to your punishment count. Stand up straight.”

Bucky whined unhappily, but did as he was told. “Sir, Tony, _please_ ,” he begged.

“I’m right here,” Tony said soothingly. He picked up another ice cube and used it to draw patterns on Bucky’s back, grinning at the whimpers and gasps. “You were all wound up,” he said innocently. “I thought you could use a little cooldown.” He ran his piece of ice slowly up the curve of Bucky’s spine, then watched the trail of water it left behind roll slowly down to Bucky’s crack.

Tony followed the trail back down with the ice, tracing down Bucky’s crack and watching the way his cheeks squeezed involuntarily with a thoughtful hum.

“Ohgod, Tony, no. Sir. _Please_ , no.”

“You run so hot, it wouldn’t last more than a handful of seconds before it was all melted,” Tony pointed out.

“Sir, no, I’m begging.”

“And you beg so prettily. All right, not this time, then.” Tony circled back around to the front and lifted the ice from the first nipple and fastened his mouth over it. Bucky made a choked sound at the sudden shift in temperature, arching into it desperately. Tony sucked and licked until the skin was warm again, then let the ice fall again.

Bucky made a long keening sound, throwing his head back and tossing it from side to side. Tony lifted the ice away on the other side, and Bucky started whimpering even before Tony began to warm it again.

"You're doing great, baby," Tony praised as he let the rapidly-melting ice fall back into place. "You're being so good."

Bucky shuddered. "You're being so _cruel_ ," he complained, but it sounded more petulant than truly upset, and his hands were still twisting restlessly.

"I know, I'm just the worst," Tony said with a smile, fishing an ice cube from the cup while kissing his way down Bucky's stomach, licking at the rivulets of water. "You love it, though."

Bucky whined deep in his throat, not willing to agree, but not able to deny it, either.

Tony settled back on his knees and sucked Bucky's cock into his mouth, taking it as deep as he could, burying his nose in Bucky's pubic hair, slightly damp from icemelt.

"Oh, god," Bucky moaned, his whole body tensing, his hips pumping helplessly.

Tony let it go for a moment, then pulled off with a soft pop. He slipped the ice he was holding into his mouth, resting his other hand on Bucky's hip. Bucky's revenge for this was going to be _epic_ , but Tony couldn't resist. He sucked on the ice for a few seconds, making sure his tongue was good and cold, and then slid his mouth back onto Bucky's cock.

" _Fuck_!" Bucky shouted. "Oh my god, Tony, you--"

Tony rolled his tongue so the ice was pressed directly against Bucky's skin, then bobbed his head, dragging it up and down Bucky's length.

Bucky screamed, wordless. Tony glanced up, but his hands were clenched into fists, still not signaling a halt.

Tony pulled off, taking what was left of the ice with him, and Bucky sagged in the restraints, panting.

The hand that had been on Bucky's hip was nice and warm. Tony curled it around Bucky's cock, not stroking, just wrapping it in warmth.

Bucky groaned at the sudden heat, and whimpered when Tony pressed still-cool lips to his abdomen.

"So very, _very_ good for me," Tony crooned. He let go long enough to grab the lube and squirt a little into his hand, then started jacking Bucky off, slow and light.

"Oh god," Bucky babbled. "Oh god oh god oh Christ, Tony, sir, god, yes, god, more, please, _please_ …"

Tony did what Bucky wanted, slowly tightening his grip and speeding his movement in slow increments, leaning back just far enough to watch Bucky's face. Even half-hidden by the mask, Bucky was incredibly expressive and easy to read.

Tony let him get all the way to the non-verbal, breath-holding point before halting the building orgasm, not simply backing off but squeezing tight at the base of his cock to cut it off.

Bucky choked out a sob of frustration, his lips moving but not quite forming words.

"I know," Tony said gently. "I know, but that's it, that's the last of it. You've been so good, sweetheart." Now that Bucky was no longer about to come, Tony released his grip and stood up. He pulled the icepacks off Bucky's shoulders -- the ice was long gone now, anyway -- and rubbed long, soothing strokes up and down Bucky's back.

"Tony," Bucky gasped. "Tony, sir, please…"

"What is it?" Tony asked. "What do you need?"

"I, I don't know," Bucky said. "I jus’, I… _Tony_." He was trembling all over, gasping for breath.

"I'm here." Tony stroked his fingers through Bucky’s hair, pushing the mask back and off, tossing it to the floor. "I'm right here. Check in for me, honey, tell me how you're doing." After that, Bucky probably needed a timeout.

Bucky licked his lips, tongue rasping over dry skin, and it seemed an eternity before he managed to raise his eyes to meet Tony’s gaze. He looked lost, dazed. Tony became aware of a soft, jingling sound and realized Bucky was shivering so steadily that it was rattling his metal arm against the cuff. “Sir… sir…” Bucky swallowed, raw and painful, his voice hoarse. “C’n I… please… can I… get an arm back, jus’ for a minute, please, sir?” His right hand shook as it tipped palm up against the cuff: _yellow_.

“Of course, whatever you need, just give me--” Tony reached up to snatch at the quick-release catch for the restraint on Bucky’s right, eyeing his fingers carefully to make sure they weren’t having circulation problems.

Bucky immediately rubbed at his chest, wiping away the last of the water, and then scrubbed his hand over his face and neck, breath unsteady.

A hot stone of guilt dropped into Tony’s gut and started cramping. Yellow, hell; Bucky was dropping hard and fast, and a brief pause wasn’t going to be enough to stop it. It was the ice, he was sure of it. Why the fuck had he decided on that? Even if Bucky had marked it as “want to try”, Tony should have-- He cut off that line of thought ruthlessly. _You’re still in charge_ , he reminded himself. _Guilt later. Help first_.

Bucky was practically hanging from metal arm, so Tony bent to release his legs, as well.

“Sir?” Bucky still sounded shaky.

“I was done with this, anyway,” Tony said, which at least was actually true. He’d had one or two other things in mind, but he’d already been planning to move to the bed. He tucked his shoulder up against Bucky’s side and opened the catch on the metal arm. Bucky sagged against him immediately, and Tony was glad he’d already braced for it. He pulled Bucky’s left arm over his shoulder. “Come on, soldier, let’s go lie down for a bit.”

Bucky nodded, slow. His eyes stuttered up to meet Tony’s gaze, pupils wide and dark, but not quite… there, the way he normally was. “Yeah,” he said, softly. “Yes… sir.” He let his eyes slip shut again, trusting Tony to lead him to the bed.

Tony got him under the covers, and brought an extra blanket from the closet to spread over him as well, then stripped down to his boxers and crawled in beside him. Tony rubbed at Bucky’s arm under the covers, wanting to pull him close but not quite certain it would be welcome.

“Little too far,” he said softly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Guess my calculations weren’t quite right there.”

Bucky reached up slowly and pressed a metal finger to Tony’s lips. “M okay, sir. Jus’...” Bucky made an effort and opened his eyes, catching Tony’s gaze. “I… I was good for you? Sir?”

“So good,” Tony promised, reaching up to kiss Bucky’s forehead. “The best. I owe you the biggest reward ever.”

Bucky pulled in close, buried his face against the side of Tony’s neck, taking huge breaths and letting them out slow, his arms closing around Tony’s chest, almost too tight. “Tony… Tony, Tony, ah…”

Relief unravelled one knot in Tony’s chest. He put his arms around Bucky, holding him close and petting his hair and back. “I’m here, I’ve got you.”

Bucky reached around, pulled Tony’s hand out of his hair and dropped a kiss in Tony’s palm. “You do,” he said, pressing Tony’s hand over Bucky’s heart. “You have me.”

“Love you. Rest now. I’ll make it up to you later.” Tony rested his forehead against Bucky’s. “Best boyfriend ever.”

***

Bucky woke up feeling like he’d been run over by a truck. He was thirsty, ravenous, and his core muscles ached. He scrubbed at his teeth with his tongue, trying to piece together what, actually, had happened. He remembered… being locked into place inside Tony’s framework, surrendering all control to Tony. He’d been desperately turned on, with a black shiver of nerves underneath that had rocked back and forth between terror and anticipation.

He trusted Tony. More than he trusted himself, some days.

The “homework” assignments that Tony had given him… those had been educational. He wondered if any of it would have been easier for him if he’d grown up in a time when people (well, some people) actually talked about any of this stuff; the internet had made connecting with others like himself simple. There’d been books and chat rooms and videos and the first few times he’d ventured out in that direction, he’d been both horrified and fascinated. And then Tony had brought him a kink-sheet with a list of things they could try and that… that had been interesting. And weird. And mortifying. And he’d had to look a bunch of shit up, because yiffing was not a thing that ever would have occurred to him.

_Your kink is not my kink, but your kink is okay_. He’d gotten a dose of that, too, just lurking and watching people kink-shame, and then defend, round and round in circles.

And then he and Tony had sat down to compare lists; which had been a true test of his enhanced circulation system, because his blood could absolutely not decide if it wanted to stain his cheeks red with embarrassment, or flood southward to one of the _worst_ hardons he’d had in months. Made worse by the fact that Tony had absolutely forbid any sex before, during, or immediately after the discussions of possible kinks, which just made Bucky want it _more_.

Not that he didn’t understand the reasons behind it, but his dick never had listened much to his head.

The cross-referenced list of things they both liked and were willing to try had been quite a bit shorter. They’d agreed on a lot of the “no”s, which was something of a relief, and none of the things they had disagreed on were dealbreakers. Bucky had point-blank refused to have anything in his mouth except for Tony’s cock; just the thought of a gag made him shudder with dread. Tony had, on the opposite end, absolutely refused the idea of knife-play, no matter how fast Bucky would heal. Even so, with a short list of options, Bucky really had no idea what Tony had had planned for him, and letting himself give up, surrender, had been both harder and easier than he’d thought it would be.

And then…

It was just a wash of sensation, of need and denial, of being completely and utterly helpless and… he was still having trouble putting it together. He sighed; he did not want to do this because Tony was… well, Tony. All over. And like Steve, prone to picking up guilt that didn’t belong to him and adding it to his stash and… _shit_. If he could get his head on straight… Bucky rubbed his right hand over his face, shoving his hair back. And opened his eyes.

“Hey,” he said, looking for Tony, eyes flickering up to judge the emotional weather on Tony’s face.

Tony was sitting beside Bucky on the bed. There was a tablet propped against one knee, but he was looking at Bucky. “Hey there,” he said, smiling but worried. “Feeling better?”

“Was I feeling bad?” Bucky wondered, out loud. “I don’t… I don’t quite remember how I got from there to here.” He glanced down at his wrist, which was… sore. He traced the fading red line with his metal fingers; he remembered struggling against the restraints for a while, knowing he couldn’t get out and not being able to help it anyway.

“You were... overwhelmed?” Tony said, fingers fidgeting with the hem of the blanket.  “Sure, let’s go with overwhelmed. Not, not hurt or _badly_ freaking out, but I may have pushed a little harder than was strictly wise, and you needed a... a break. Safeworded yellow and everything -- which, I mean, good job on that, word doing what it’s supposed to. But you were, uh, dropping pretty hard, so I figured maybe a nap would help.”

Bucky stomach dipped to the left, twisted. _God damn it_ , he hadn’t wanted to tap out.

“What is that face about?”

Bucky scrubbed at the back of his neck, looking at Tony through the fall of his hair. “It’s bad etiquette to apologize for safewording out,” he said. “Doesn’t mean I don’t feel sorry.”

Tony snorted. “I don’t. I hadn’t realized how... affected you were. I was terrified I’d pushed you into a flashback or something. Safewording is _so much better_. And if anyone needs to be sorry, it’s me. I was driving.” He offered a rueful smile.

“No, no flashbacks. Pretty sure I’d remember that,” Bucky said. “Felt good. Really good.” He felt his cheeks heat again, thinking back on it. “I remember... you tickling me.” He shot a very fierce look at Tony. “And don’t think I won’t get you for that.” He shivered, then hid his face behind his hands. That was hard to think about, how damn much he’d _liked_ it; desperate and pleading and almost crying, he couldn’t control that reaction at all, and it was like fighting. Or falling. Terrifying and exhilarating and wonderful and _awful_ , all at the same time.

Tony’s little smile grew into a smirk. “Counting on that, actually,” he said cheekily. He still looked a little worried, but already better than when Bucky had first woken.

Bucky considered it, the events slowly coming clearer to him, working it out in his head where things had gone south so suddenly. “The edging,” Bucky said. “That was hard -- don’t laugh, it’s a stupid pun, I can’t help it, Jesus. I’m not… You know I can go for a while, so I never… I don’t bother to try to hold onto it. I’m not going to ruin your fun if I come early, so I don’t try to not.”

Tony was nodding by the time Bucky finished speaking. “I figured that would be a little difficult for you,” he said. “Maybe underestimated the effect, but it was... that one was _supposed_ to be hard.” His lip valiantly struggled against a grin at the pun.

“Stupid pun,” Bucky muttered, again.

Tony gave up and grinned, briefly, but then sobered again. “You know you can... update your ratings on anything. Any time. I mean, I know you know, because we talked about it, but I just... There’s hard and there’s _hard_ , and you’re supposed to enjoy it, too.”

Bucky rubbed at the back of his neck, then tilted his head a few times, popping the vertebrae in his spine loudly, groaning once as the endorphins flooded in, taking a little of his headache with them. “Maybe…” he said, slanting a look at Tony from under his bangs again, “maybe we can set up a rule of three, or somethin’. I can take the edging. I can deal with the ice -- although, holy shit, that was _mean_ , Tony. Never in m’life… oh… my. God. The blindfold, that was interesting, too. But…“

“Too much at once,” Tony finished, making a face.

“Too much,” Bucky agreed. “My mantra, when I first got here. Everything was too much. I felt too much. Too many colors, too many choices. Too much light. And… I was scared. I wanted it all, but… the driving goal of my life right then was to make you happy. Still is, but…” He shrugged, lopsided, as always. Stupid arm. “It was _so much_ , and making you happy, being good for you, was all I could think about, and... I guess I started feeling like I was turning back into _him_ , that guy who slept under the bed for a month ‘cause he knew he was going to be attacked any minute.”

Tony looked positively stricken at that. “Shit, Bucky, I-- Absolutely not the goal. You know that, right? I’m the poster boy for _too much_ ; believe it or not, that was kind of _toned down_ from some of the early ideas. But the point was to give you something _you_ wanted.”

“You don’t understand,” Bucky said. “That wasn’t the scary part. The scary part was how much I _wanted_ it. Not the sleeping under the bed part, but the part where I didn’t have to think. Where I don’t have to keep checking to make sure what I’m doing is right, where I just let you do all that for me, and all I have to do in return is whatever you tell me to do.” He could feel the heat flooding his face, just thinking about it, the few moments of bliss and _calm_ he’d felt before he’d started second-guessing himself and started spiraling into panic and uncertainty.

Tony was looking guilty and horrified, though, the same look he’d had on his face when he’d realized Bucky had been complying with his every idle command. Damn it, Bucky hadn’t meant to make him feel _worse_.

“Tony, this is _good_ , this is _safe_. I… wanted that, I _need_ it. I just have to get out of my own head for five goddamn minutes, and figure out how to let go. I had it, for a little bit there, and it was _so damn good_ , right up until I got tangled up in my own thoughts.”

_All you have to do is stop fighting._ Not everything Hydra told him was a lie. He bit down on his lip before he could say _that;_ Tony would never hear it for what it was.

Tony huffed, not quite a laugh. “Yeah, that’s... Well, getting out of my head is the reason I do it, too. Though for me it’s not so much handing over control as just wanting to _stop thinking_ for a bit. So I guess that makes sense.” He brushed his knuckles down Bucky’s cheek. “For the record? All you have to do to make me happy is _be here_. That’s it. Everything else is... details. So whatever you want, whatever you need? That’s what I want to give you. If that’s this--” He waved a hand at the frame. “-- then we’ll keep trying, some different approaches, different speeds to see what works best for you. And if it was too much, if you don’t want to try again, then that’s okay, too.”

Bucky almost protested that, because what Tony wanted and needed were just as important. Bucky didn’t want or need anything badly enough to make Tony feel this remorseful, and it was something that could happen again, far too easily. Bucky wouldn’t mind going through it, if it got him what he needed, but he wasn’t sure he could do that to _Tony_ again.

But from far away and long ago, he recalled a soft touch against his cheek and a rough, smoky voice and the things she had done that she _needed_ , and how he could never, ever get in the way of that, no matter how much it cost him, personally, to watch her. Sometimes, you made sacrifices for the people you loved. Bucky smiled faintly, bittersweet: even now, after everything, Celeste was still looking out for her beautiful boy, and reminding him to do the same.

“You know I feel the same, right, Tony?” Bucky scraped his hair back from his face, pushing it aside so that he could see, and be seen.

“You know, I think I do,” Tony said. He said it slowly, as if he was only just discovering it, but when he met Bucky’s eyes, his smile was genuine. “I don’t think it even crossed my mind that you wouldn’t forgive me for messing it up. I was just worried about making sure it never happens again.”

Bucky snorted. “It will, though,” he said. “We’ll screw it up. One of these days, you’re gonna get a plate-pinch out of my arm and that’ll be exciting. Or you’ll say something stupid and I’ll take it all wrong. It’ll happen. We’re only human, and you have no idea, Tony, how glad I am that that’s still true. _Bucky_ makes mistakes. The Winter Soldier was never allowed to. But it will never be the end of the world. And it will never be the end of _us_.”

“Yeah, I know.” Tony leaned in to kiss him, slow and easy. “You’re stuck with me, sugar britches.”

Bucky’s stomach clenched again, a deep, aching cramp. “That said, I do have to warn you…” He gave Tony his best, most malevolent glare. “If you don’t feed me and then fuck me, I will be very displeased.”

Tony tried to look intimidated, but ended up just laughing. “If you’ll believe it, I did actually prepare for aftercare, because I am not a cretin.” He twisted around to lean over the far side of the bed, so precariously balanced that Bucky nearly had to grab him to keep him from falling over. When he came up, he was holding two water bottles in one hand. “Drink!” He held one out to Bucky. “I’d apologize for it being room temperature, but I thought you might not want cold for a while.”

Bucky twisted the cap off and tipped the bottle up, swallowing hard. Room-temperature was still cool enough to feel good against his parched throat, and he ended up guzzling the whole bottle in one go. “S’fine,” he said.

Tony held out the other bottle. “There’s more if you need it.”

Bucky nodded, took the second bottle, then, with an exaggerated leer, said, “Two should do it, then I might _need_ somethin’ else.” _Proper hydration is critical in maintaining functionality of the asset._ Bucky shoved that thought away with both hands. He could damn well just drink because he was thirsty.

Tony half-fell out of bed again, and came up with, of all things, a tray of food. “Prepared,” he reiterated. He pointed at Bucky. “Supersoldier, crazy metabolism, plus energy-burning activity.” He grinned and set the tray on the bed, and pointed at himself. “Genius.” The tray was covered with snacks -- fruit and nuts and what looked like a peanut butter sandwich and some chocolates and a couple of powerbars still in their wrappers.

Bucky grabbed a handful of chocolates and stuffed them, rapid fire, into his mouth. Knowing Tony, they were probably some sort of gourmet chocolates from a little boutique that went on and on about artisan candies and blah blah blah, but Bucky did not care. Chocolate was just one of those things he was going to be stupidly greedy about.

Tony watched, almost warily, as he chased the chocolate with the fruit and the fruit with the nuts. After going about his snack entirely backward, he ended up stuffing half the sandwich in his mouth at once and then hunting around for his water bottle to wash it down with, but it had gotten emptied, as well.

“Keep hands and feet away from food intake orifice, got it,” Tony said, amused, as he handed Bucky another bottle of water.

“Just ‘cause you don’t eat enough to keep a pigeon alive,” Bucky muttered around the rest of sandwich.

“I eat plenty,” Tony said, “you know, for someone without an overclocked metabolism. Just because the rest of you burn through calories like they’re firecrackers on the Fourth...”

Bucky picked over the last remaining nibbles, an apple he hadn’t quite bitten to the core, a quick drag of his finger through the melted chocolate remains, the crumbs tipped out of the bottom of the powerbar package. He wasn’t really _hungry_ anymore, just mouth-feels and a little remnant of stirred up emotions.

He moved the tray out of the way, then went through the series of self-checks for his arm, twist, squeeze, flex, tapped each finger, checked the wrist, the elbow, the socket-join. The plates shifted and clicked, servos humming contentedly. _100%; the asset is fully functional._ He didn’t say that, either. Self-check diagnostics were a useful tool, like his weapons training, or stealth techniques but Tony didn’t like thinking about where it had come from, so…

Leaning over, he pushed down on the mattress enough that Tony rolled into the divot and Bucky kissed him, light, lingering, steady. He didn’t push, didn’t pry, didn’t map out the territory of Tony’s mouth like it was a battleplan, just waited, touching his tongue lightly against Tony’s lower lip, feeling the rasp of Tony’s breath, simple, easy.

Tony kissed back just as lightly for a moment, sweet and soft. Bucky could almost feel the moment the pieces came together for him, a lightning-flash of tension that hit the instant before Tony took over the kiss, curling his hand around Bucky’s neck and teasing his tongue into Bucky’s mouth. His fingers tightened in Bucky’s hair, not pulling, but a steady pressure. “Done eating?”

“Yes,” he said, soft, lowering his body a little, to get under Tony’s direct line of sight, making himself smaller, less predatory. Bucky was no fool; he pursued pleasure like it was a mission. “Sir.”

(Tony did the same thing, whether he knew it or not, tracking all the“relevant data” and keeping his list of tells and postures and kisses, the touches and sounds that were calculated, _crafted_ , to drive Bucky wild with need.)

Tony’s breath caught, and he pulled away just enough to study Bucky’s face. After a few long seconds, he nodded. “Okay. Good.”

Tony pushed Bucky onto his back and straddled him, leaning in for another kiss, this one hot and demanding, punctuated with sharp nips to his lip, his jaw, his ear, and then coming back to his mouth.

Bucky arched up into it, loving the feel of Tony’s weight on him, the way it centered and grounded him and kept him safe. Not quite as much as he loved Tony _under_ him, squirming and moaning and… need sparked again and he had to hold himself back. His instincts wanted to flip Tony over, bury himself in Tony’s body. He clenched his left hand, the servos in his arm grating together, that synthesized sound of strain. Between each breath, each kiss, he whispered Tony’s name. “Tony… sir… Tony…”

“Right here,” Tony said, dark and low and right into Bucky’s ear, breath and vibration shivering down Bucky’s spine. He sucked at the skin behind Bucky’s earlobe. “Told you, you’d get a reward for being so good. So you come whenever you’re ready; no more holding back. And you can decide how you’re going to get me off -- in your mouth or that sweet ass.”

Bucky lay back, considering it, his eyes never leaving Tony’s face. He dragged one finger over his bottom lip, plush and tingly from kissing, thinking. He loved Tony’s cock in his mouth, the feel of it on his tongue, pushing at his throat, and Tony made the best noises, so appreciative and vocal and Bucky had so much more control over it that way… That was the thought that decided him. He surrendered.

“Sir,” he said, looking up through the curtain of his hair, dark and needy. “I want you to fuck me, sir.”

If Tony was surprised by the choice, he didn’t show it. “Good call,” he said, and gave Bucky another one of those searing, almost bruising kisses while groping blindly into the nightstand for lube. He didn’t tease or drag it out, either, as he usually did on the rare occasions that he topped. This time, he slithered down Bucky’s body quickly, mouthing at Bucky’s chest and stomach as he went, until he’d wriggled between Bucky’s thighs.

Tony thumbed the cap off the lube with one hand even as the other pushed Bucky’s leg back and up, leaving him feeling awkward and exposed. The cool squirt of gel on his ass made him bite back a whimper of mingled need and humiliation. Tony shifted, caught Bucky’s gaze, and swallowed his cock in the same instant Tony’s long fingers began to spread and stretch him.

Bucky canted his hips up, his right arm going over his eyes immediately, both wanting to watch and at the same time, knowing he _could not_ watch if he wanted to keep himself in check for even a minute, his left came down to clench at the blankets, twisting fabric and… _shit_ , the sound of tearing cloth was oddly loud over his moans.

Tony actually chuckled, vibrations of his mouth an exquisite torture. He pulled off long enough to say, “Hot,” with that infuriating smirk and then he was back, sucking Bucky somehow even deeper, pressing further into Bucky’s body.

_It’s not a race, it’s not a race,_ Bucky chanted inside his head. It’s not that he didn’t want to get there, but god, that felt… amazing, slick and wet and hot and… _shit, god, fuck_ … he whined, which spiraled into a hoarse, jagged shout, the sound tearing from his lips. He dropped his hips, “not… not yet, wait, Tony, sir… I… _please…_ ”

Tony tipped his chin to look up at Bucky, considering, which should have looked more ridiculous with his mouth stretched around Bucky’s cock than it actually did. He pulled off slowly, flicking his tongue against sensitive spots. “First you complain because I won’t let you come,” he said, mock-exasperated, “and now you don’t want to?” He punctuated it with a smirk and a sharp twist of his wrist.

Bucky’s thighs clenched up, _everything_ clenched up and he groaned again. “Bastard,” he muttered, panting and trying to force himself to calm, but it wasn’t _working_ and… he… _stop fighting…_

Cool dropped over him. He didn’t have to grab at pleasure, terrified that it could be taken away at any moment, storing it up for those vague memories that he could dredge up after the wipe. It was okay. Tony would take care of him, Tony would get him there. And Tony wasn’t _going anywhere_.  

He slanted a look at Tony, let his legs unclench, drop open and spread, his hands untwisting from the sheets, the ache in his arm fading, his breathing slowed, and when he looked at Tony again, his vision had blued out, pupils wide and open. “Okay… sir. I’m good.”

Tony’s expression softened, and he pressed a kiss to the inside of Bucky’s knee. “You’re always good, sweetheart.” He licked one broad stripe up Bucky’s cock and then sucked it in again, hollowing his cheeks and stroking with his tongue, and his fingers reached in and in and pressed into Bucky’s prostate until sparks formed in front of his eyes.

_Jesus Christ. How did normal people have sex, how the…_ Tony _didn’t have this problem_ , Bucky groaned again, so close and… nnnnnnnnnnnngh, and yet, it was so much _better_ , so much more, having waited, just the extra few minutes, and… what had he done before, before the enhancements, when finishing quick had been a subject of back-fence gossip and whispered conversations between dames over tea heavily sweetened with whiskey… baseball? God, he hadn’t watched baseball in years, had no idea… and then things shifted again and he would wait, he _could…_

Well, maybe not when Tony did _that_ , holy shit, that man had a talented tongue.

It was different, holding off, not like when he went a second, or third… or fifth… time. Bucky could get to about six before he was so raw and aching that it was more pain and getting off in self-defense rather than anything else. Tony had joked about trying for double digits, but whenever that came up, Bucky turned the tables on him and plowed him into the mattress with enough decisiveness as to leave Tony wrung out and hardly able to move.

Tony did that thing with his tongue again, cruel, deliberate, where he started a broad lick at the base and by the time he got to the end, just the very tip of his tongue was there, flicking over the sensitive ridge and then… _Jeeeeesus_ ….

Bucky was fighting a two-front war, trapped between his decision to hold off for as long as he could (somewhat contrary, now that he had permission to come whenever he wanted), and his own need to _just come already_ and Tony’s determined efforts to speed him on his way, and he was… god, he was going to lose and yet, it was… going to be such a sweet surrender and… _shit…_ No… but… oh, _Christ_ , he couldn’t…

When he came, it was like being washed away by a tsunami, everything rolled and jumbled and rushing and… he couldn’t make a sound, not a cry or a grunt or a swear, couldn’t even say Tony’s name, just mouth open and straining to reach… there, there, _there_ , oh, god, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see, he could only feel, and every square centimeter of him was filled and stretched and expanded until he could count the names of God, and… oh. Wow…. he floated back down, slow, slow, like dropping into a sea of feathers.

He opened his eyes, looking down at Tony with every bit of his heart on his sleeve and across his mouth and probably gave Tony the most ridiculously sappy grin _ever_ in the history of sappy grins. “Woah.”

Tony laughed, just a little, and grinned back. “Okay, Keanu.” He moved again, pulling his fingers free and stretching up to kiss Bucky, lips and teeth and the taste of Bucky’s own come, _Christ_.

Bucky heard the lube cap snick again, and then Tony’s cock was pressing against him, rocking gently, a tease. “Still green?” Tony asked.

“Super green,” Bucky said, and he was… he was… so _damned_ ready. First time in his life, maybe, he was going to be able to take it without instinct fighting him. “God, I want you. Tony…”

“Good,” Tony said, and his voice was rough, a little tight. He caught Bucky’s right hand in his left, twining their fingers together and using the hold to pin Bucky’s hand down. He hovered over Bucky for a few beats, looking down into his eyes, and then leaned just a little closer and growled, “ _Mine_.” Bucky sucked in a breath of startled lust, and Tony rocked forward, pushing into him.

Bucky arched up, drawing him in, ankles closing behind Tony’s back, heels resting against his skin, pushing him, encouraging him.

“Yours,” he promised, letting Tony hold him down, hold him back, wanting that sweet weight on him, that pressure and the burn that meant he was claimed, that he _belonged_ to someone. To Tony.

Tony gave it to him, gave him everything. Pressed inexorably in, bottomed out, and then barely paused to let Bucky adjust before pulling back and moving in short, sharp thrusts that seemed to reach Bucky’s very core. “God, you feel good,” he gasped. “Bucky...”

“Bucky, yes…” Bucky said, slanting his best _so shy_ look at Tony, drawing out all his memories of what they had done, what they _were doing_ , let himself _feel_ it, let himself _need_ it, knowing that his blush would rise, that he was only completely unselfconscious when he wasn’t thinking. He flushed, hot, burning, molten with it, god… simmered through his veins and seared his lungs and… “Tony!”

Tony’s eyes were wide, soft brown irises all but swallowed by their pupils, sweat beginning to bead at his temples. “Bucky, _more_ ,” he demanded, taking it even as the words left his lips as he moved faster, pushed deeper.

Bucky glanced up at his right hand, still pinned down, then groaned, shifted, got his left arm under Tony and _lifted_ , bracing against Tony’s chest to keep him balanced up there. “Gimme a hand, here, _please…_ ”

Tony leaned into Bucky’s hand, testing his balance, and then let Bucky take his weight as he curled his hand around Bucky’s dick, stroking in time with his thrusts. “I’ve got you; come on, honey.”

“Tony… nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnngh, yeah, sir, I…. god…” Bucky tossed his head from side to side, hair in his face, in his mouth, Tony’s hand and cock working him in tandem and he didn’t even try this time, just went with it, came hard, squeezing down, shouting with the force of his release.

“Oh, fu--” Tony’s rhythm stuttered. He let go of Bucky’s cock to grab at Bucky’s shoulder instead, hand squeezing hard at the metal. Another half-dozen rough, uneven thrusts, and he threw his head back, gasping as he came.

He dropped his forehead to Bucky’s, panting. “Good job,” he said hoarsely. “You okay? Gimme a couple and I’ll be able to move again.”

Bucky slid his arm around from between them, dropping Tony down another few inches to land on his chest with a thump. “No hurry,” he said, slinging his arm around Tony’s waist carefully. “Feels nice to have you on me.”

“Yeah?” Tony wriggled a little, settling his head in the hollow of Bucky’s shoulder. “Glad to be of service, then.”

Bucky let his head fall back against the pillows, eyes fluttering closed, chasing sleep down as all the voices and worries in his head were completely and blissfully silent.

 

 


End file.
